A Star Has Paled
by LauranaKanan
Summary: NO SLASH This is the scene Lotr: The Two Tower. Haldir's death scene


Long they had been fighting, and it seemed as though the onslaught would never end. Legolas tore through the hoards of Uruk-hai around him, never getting a chance to look and see the dead bodies of Men, Elves, and the Enemy piling up. He sliced and ripped through the vile flesh with his pale blades, occasionally getting free enough to send an arrow far away; a feather touch of deadly measure lodging itself into the brooding beast it first found. In battle, it seemed, there were many constants. Pain, for one, was never-ending, even for the stealthy form of an Elf. Another was the smell, an amalgamation that Legolas could not put a single name to, for it seemed to pass and fade into many things: the mud, the spurting blood that covered everyone, the scent of death creeping along the very walls he fought upon. The Uruks themselves had a particularly nauseating odour that was a constant assault on the senses. The explosion had caused a sharp, stinging smell to arise and float over what was left of the Deeping Wall, and then there was the smell of the bodies that had been burnt... Not the least of the side effects was the noise.

Clanging, banging, screeching, screaming awful noises at every pitch and in quantities to drive him mad. Rain poured down upon them, plastering the Elf's long hair to his face and creating slick ground beneath his feet. Legolas was not sure how he maintained his focus, but did so with precision and grace, if the word could be named in such a location, and continued his dance with deadly fervour. His white-hilted blades gleamed through the tar-like blood of the Uruks and tore at the unnatural flesh, and one by one they fell. With each enemy vanquished, Legolas increased his efforts and speed to levels rarely reached, even by Elves, as if somehow he could destroy all of the evil that encompassed them.

The call to retreat had been a frantic scream, choked out of Aragorn as he fought for his life and the lives of his companions. He called to each that he could name, and sounded the alarm to the others as best he could. He pivoted and stared upwards, catching a flash of golden hair and scarlet cloak, flowing and billowing with the movements of their owner.

"Haldir?" he called, stretching the capacity of his lungs to allow his voice more power, "Fall back! Haldir fall back!"

Haldir gave a slight nod and turned back to defending those around him, aiding in the fight against evil that did not stop. He repeated Aragorn's call, signalling all around him to fall back into The Keep. Haldir turned and was met by Uruks in every direction, and through the grace of his lineage, fought off all he could as his voice rang clearly above the chaos.

"Fall back! Into the keep," he called to any that would hear. The last call that escaped from his lungs, though, was not a signal to retreat, but a yelp of pain as the broad blade of an Uruk spear pierced his side and gnawed through the layers of his flesh and bone. Haldir had known pain before, to be immortal was not to never feel physical hurt, but the pain that now spread within him was something unimaginable. It burned his skin and scorched his breath; his throat felt as if he had swallowed mace. Somehow, he pulled free and took a swing at the offending being with his sword, catching the beast and running it through. He gasped and felt at his wound, not believing that it could possibly be as small as it felt, for the pain it caused. His hand was stained with blood, his own blood, and that thought drove his mind into its darkest corners. No darker, perhaps, than the corners that it sought as the second strike caught him. His distraction had been small, but enough, and the thick blade of a hatchet was now lodged in his left shoulder.

Legolas had heard the call to retreat and worked himself into a frenzy resembling an injured animal trying to escape its offenders. He and one of the Elves Elrond had sent fought and dragged Gimli away from the battle, for the Dwarf did not own any word resembling 'retreat' in his vocabulary, and was unsatisfied with the idea. It was when he heard Haldir's voice calling to those around him that his head turned, and he saw the other Elf fighting a surrounding circle of Uruk-hai with a fierceness befitting the situation. His feet treaded with great speed over the wreckage of Helm's Deep in an effort to reach Haldir and offer aid and his eyes never left the bright cloak as it swirled and danced against the rain. He pushed himself into speeds he did not know he was capable of at the sight of Haldir being stabbed, hoping to save him before it was too late. He had to go faster. Faster enough, to get to the Elf and fend off the Uruks. He was not fast enough.

The piercing cry of Haldir as the blade of the Orc-made axe delved into his body nearly made Legolas' ears bleed, and if he could have, he would have torn them off. He ran at the offending Uruk and, before the enemy knew he was there, let his blade fly and meet the ugly flesh before it, sending the thick head rolling onto the ground. He caught Haldir as his body began to fall to his knees and held him up. Legolas' breath caught and shook, but it was not until his eyes met the deep well of Haldir's that the tears came. Emotion of every sort passed over the fair face of the Lorien Elf. Pain was dominant, but did not hide the fear and confusion and ultimately, as his gaze left Legolas and drifted across the dead bodies before him, despair. Legolas allowed his eyes to follow Haldir's and gazed upon the fallen Elves. Each was still as fair as the day they were born, but bathed in blood and dirt and the vile stench of the battle that he could still not shake free of. He was not prepared for this, though he had known many would die, but how many did he really know? It was not right to say he didn't care for them, but their deaths would not affect him on such a personal level as it would if Aragorn or Gimli passed, or as it did when Boromir was slain, or Gandalf. He had still not recovered from witnessing the fall of a friend he had known for most of his long life, and though he had returned to them, Legolas knew that Haldir would not. It was not right, Haldir was an Elf, born to live, not to die... Was there no more grace left in the world? Where would it go, when Haldir left? His eyes slowly turned back to the fallen Elf, who was staring at the ground and breathing a whisper of a breath, not seeming to notice any longer that Legolas held him; not seeming even to notice that Legolas cried out for him. The agony that pierced the souls of those around them went beyond Haldir\'s reasoning, and at the moment his life faded, Legolas noticed the world around him became slightly darker.

Aragorn watched as Legolas' turned suddenly bolted down the wall after Haldir, where he followed his fair-haired friend. He could not run as fast as the Elf, though, and did not arrive in time to do any more than witness what was undoubtedly the saddest moment he would ever recall. It struck him in an odd way that he did not know what broke his heart more: the death of Haldir, a friend to him, or the look that passed over Legolas' face, tormenting his Elven features as the realisation that death was occurring dawned on him. He had seen that face before, though not in such cruel measure, when they had left Moria. He had witnessed the Elf work through the confusion, the torment, the searching for some way to help but only finding his efforts were in vain before, and it was nothing he desired to look upon. As Haldir's body, devoid of life, fell forward onto Legolas, the Elf laid him down gently and stared with horror into empty eyes. Starlight was no longer present within the dark circles, and Legolas could not see his reflection in them. Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder and yelled over the echoing sounds of battle that they could linger no more. Reply from Legolas came only in swiftly following Aragorn back into The Keep.

The battle was over; Gandalf had arrived with Eómer and his riders and destroyed the remaining ranks of the army from Isengard beneath the hooves of their horses. A new day had dawned, and all that was loud, vicious, and evil the previous night was gone, save the lingering corpses of bravely fighting Men and Elves and the foul, reeking bodies of the Uruk-hai. There was more, though. Staring up at the pink hues of the morning sky, Legolas felt in his heart that a star had paled and gone out. Even as he listened to Gandalf speak of what lay ahead, his thoughts were on Haldir, an Elf that he had not known well, by the standards of his people. Still, he felt as though he had shared something with him, in the last moments of Haldir's life, they had both looked upon the death around them and realised that even immortality does not protect one from the greatest evils. It was a sad way to learn any lesson, but Legolas felt even stronger and more determined in his will to fight for Middle-Earth.


End file.
